My Child
by Gingehfish
Summary: Romsca the ferret never imagined she would die in the paws of an Abbot, nor did she think she would go to the Dark Forest rather than Hellgates. But she did ... Oneshot, made after reading Pearls of Lutra for the fiftieth time or so.


**My Child**

**A oneshot about Romsca's death and remorse.**

**[A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own any of Brian Jacques's work, no matter how cool that would be. I took the dialogue of Romsca's death for this as well as the characters and setting, but nothing else, and of course Jacques's work is not mine. With that said, enjoy!]**

Romsca faced Lask Frildur, eyes wild. Her blade flashed as she darted in and gutted the Moniter at last. Her crew and his lizards were already dead.

As Lask Frildur doubled over, clutching his stomach, his free hand grabbed Romsca's shoulder in a vicelike grip. Kicking her backward, the Monitor General rose, bleeding fiercely from his stomach.

Romsca heard a sickening crunch as her body collided with the mast, and she lay there, still swinging her cutlass loosely, as Lask approached, grinning with insane pleasure.

"Yezz," he hissed, "the great Lazk haz won! The Emperor will rule the pearlz!"

"Not on my watch, scum," Romsca growled through teeth that were gritted with pain. When the Monitor lizard was close enough, she summoned the last of her strength and sliced Lask Frildur's neck open.

The Monitor leapt back with a gurgling cry. He turned and raced toward Romsca's cabin—toward the Abbotmouse!

Helpless, the ferret watched as the slowly weakening lizard began to cut his way through the wood. Dizzy with pain though she was, Romsca knew it meant her life if she tried to rise—her backbone was snapped clean in two, and she was dying.

But so was Lask. With one last strike of the sword, the door to Romsca's cabin gave way, and the lizard fell down, dead.

A few minutes later, Romsca heard a quavering voice from her cabin.

"Hello, is anybeast out there?"

Relieved, the ferret called out, "Ahoy, mouse, 'tis yer old messmate Romsca. Open the door!"

Slowly, the door in question opened. Lask's body fell to the floor with a thump as Durral rushed out onto the deck.

Grunting with effort, Romsca raised her head and faintly smiled at the Abbot. She was grateful he was here. She needed a friend as she died. "You ain't goin' t'start callin' me yore child, are yer?"

Eyes wide, Durral shook his head as he took in the scene around him.

The _Waveworm_ was covered in the bodies of searats, corsairs, and Monitor lizards. Blood so coated the boat that it was like the once-mighty vessel was painted red. It pained Romsca to see her messmates treated in such a manner after they had been slain, but in her condition, she could not do anything. She hoped the Abbot could give them a proper sea burial and chop the lizards to bits and cook them for the fishes to feast on.

Instead of showing her shock at the massacred mess, Romsca put up a brave front and chuckled. "Pretty, ain't it? There's only you'n'me left, Durral."

The mouse ran to her side and lifted her head to put a blanket behind it. He seemed shocked at her condition and shouted, "Friend, you're hurt!"

Her head fell against her newfound friend's clothes as she murmured, "Aye, that's the truth, bucko, but I fixed ole Lask good'n'proper, didn't I! Aaahhh!"

Durral was trying to lie Romsca down, but he stopped as she protested, "Don't move me, there's only this mast holdin' my back together . . ."

The ferret shook head as the Abbot attempted to look at the mess her back was. She didn't even want to think about what Lask had done to her. "Don't look, you don't wanna see wot that lizard's claws'n'fangs did ter me, mate." Her tone took a deep intensity as she continued, "Now lissen careful, 'cos there ain't much time. Let go of me easy like, an' make yer way t'the tiller. She's still 'eaded due west, so take a stern line an' lash 'er steady. Go on, Father Abbot, do like I say!"

As Durral scurried over to the tiller to do the necessary task, Romsca dozed off.

She dreamed of a raging sea where her messmates were. They smiled wickedly as they bobbed, shipless, in the water and beckoned to her.

"Ahoy, Romsca!"

The ferret turned to see Bladeribb. He was floating and ginning widely. "This 'tis a corsair's hell. We were'll evilbeasts in life, so the powers 'bove decided we nedded a leetle purnushin'. Come'n join us, mate! Yer close to Hellgates anyways. That fool mouse ain't gonna care when yer gone!"

Romsca closed her eyes, but the vision of the sea full of every searat and corsair there ever was did not vanish. She knew she'd taken innocent beast's lives, but she was a corsair. That's what she was supposed to do!

A small paw rested on her shoulder. Romsca opened her eyes to see a strong, armor-plated mouse.

"Who're ye?" she asked.

The mouse looked at her gravely. "I am Martin the Warrior of Redwall Abbey, where Abbot Durral comes from. You do not have to join these vermin, Romsca. If you help Durral, we goodbeasts will allow you to join us in the Dark Forest." He waved a paw, and the image of the sea vanished, revealing a wondrous mossy forest and a green, rolling meadow.

Romsca gasped in delight. This certainly was the place she wanted her spirit to reside.

Martin gazed at her sternly. "However, you will have to feel remorse for the killings you did—_true_ remorse. Not many vermin are offered this choice, Romsca. Pick wisely."

He vanished, and Romsca woke.

She saw a lean-to made out of canvas surrounding her and Durral beside her. All her pain came flooding back.

Seeing Durral resolved Romsca. She then really _did_ feel remorse—the otters from Lutra were slaughtered mercilessly, and she felt their pain, as well as the pain from every other beast she had slain. Guilt hung upon her shoulders, but it was a relief knowing that kind old beasts like Durral and Martin were still there. She wanted to be one of those beasts, though it was too late for her now.

"Yore a good creature," she rasped to Durral, "but an ole fool. Take care o' yerself. I ain't worth it, my string's played out."

Soup was ladled into her mouth as Durral fed it to her. "I'm afraid it's only dried fish and ship's biscuit with some water, but 'tis the best I could do, friend. You saved my life, and you were good to Viola too. Without you we would both have fallen victim to those lizards long ago. Drink up, now."

Romsca refused the soup. "Water, just a drop of water, matey. I'm parched."

As she drank, she whispered, "You 'earken t'me, Durral, y'could never sail this tub back to Mossflower, but she's bound due west, and with luck y'll lanfall at the isle of Sampetra. I've got mates there, tell 'em yore my pal. 'Tis yer only chance, may'ap they'll 'elp you."

The Abbot stroked Romsca's paw. "Now, now, my child, none of that talk. You'll live to see your friends again, I'll make sure of that."

Her voice faint, Romsca replied, smiling. "I 'opes y'make it back to Redwall Abbey someday, it looked like a nice place t'be. Hmph, you won't be bothered with the types like me then, corsairs an' searats an' all manner o' wavescum . . ."

As she shuddered, Durral drew the blanket closer to her body. "Hush, now, and rest, my child."

Slowly fading to the Dark Forest where Martin was waiting, Romsca murmured, "My child. I like that. Thank ye, my Father."

Her head lolled forward and she died, truly remorseful, truly now a goodbeast.


End file.
